Steam
by Morgana Maeve
Summary: [Yaoi][AxelDemyxRoxas][PWP][Threesome][Cut Lemon] And the steam continues to rise, even though he only imagines it. It's not quite good enough, but that's okay.


Steam

Morgana Maeve

Warning! Very explicit Yaoi! Contains a three-way! Don't read unless you're corrupted and/or over the age of seventeen. You have been warned. (Unedited version found on and the link can be found on my profile.)

Blame my porny little mind for this. And the y!Gallery for indulging my OT3 of Axel/Demyx/Roxas. Yay, now I have two PWPs to my name…

Disclaimer: Square and Disney own the Kingdom Hearts series. I own my porny little thoughts. Yes Square, I make your beloved characters do strange and abnormal things to each other. What're you going to do about it?

.::oOo::.

Demyx has always been a bit of a black sheep. As one of the later members of the Organization, he has never gotten the respect the elders have gotten, nor has he asked for it. More content to sleep late than to take missions, he is used to the subjected abuse from the others. Easy-going and constantly smiling, Demyx acts as if the Organization is one big party and he the life of it.

The other members, especially they higher up ones have always told him he is not good enough. The Superior tells him this the most. It is always not quite strong enough, or not quite what the mission called for, and one time, it is not good enough, even for a pathetic lower-level Nobody such as himself.

But Demyx is nice, and though it's his undoing, he never holds anything against anybody. He simply floats in his nonexistence, enjoying his non-life to whatever extent he can.

Sometimes, though, late at night, when the moon is barely a sliver, his phantom heart aches, and nothing, not even the melodies he can call forth from his sitar, can ease that pain.

So it's surprising when he realizes he is being watched. It is not the glare of the Superior, always waiting for the inevitable mistake, but a sort of glance that lasts too long and feels too hot. And when he looks, there's never anyone there. It's rather unsettling, but Demyx, bright in a world full of dark and shadows, continues to smile and remains unperturbed.

Day by day, month by month, the glances get longer and hotter until Demyx feels as if he's smoldering underneath his coat. Sometimes, when all are distracted, he will silently douse himself with his own water, and the steam he imagines curling off his body brings a temporary release. But it is never quite enough. And that is okay, because he is Demyx, and when pertaining to him, not quite enough is his own personal chorus.

One day, the heated gazes, for now they are far too long to call glances, stop. It is the day the new member, Number XIII, joins The Organization. Demyx feels the loss, and feels the hint of jealousy brewing within his dusty chest, but then he stops, takes the loss, and moves on.

Weeks later, the gaze returns, and it has brought a partner. Demyx nearly dies underneath the pressure, but it is good pressure, and the wave of water that cascades upon him is the sweetest thing he can almost feel. Never one to deny himself, he takes to this release nearly everyday, and when the gazes return, he can sense a hint of satisfaction hidden under the tremendous heat.

It is soon after that that Demyx receives a visitor in his private room. He is perched on a windowsill, plucking absentmindedly at the strings of his sitar when he is suddenly very aware of the anonymous gaze. He turns, and there is Axel, leaning on the doorframe, hood down, curious eyes burning.

Those blue-green eyes are so strange, so beautiful, yet so dangerous, and Demyx cannot find words. But he does not have to, for Axel is speaking.

"Come with me." It is not a question, it is not a request, but an order, and Axel expects it to be followed. And he knows it will because he has studied Demyx a long time, and he knows simplistic Demyx will do what he is told.

Sure enough, Demyx is bounding over to him, all smiles, ready and willing to follow. Axel smirks.

"You go first." And Demyx obliges, and all the way down the dark hall he feels Axel's eyes burn into his back. It takes all of his self-control not to show the shivers running down his body and to not succumb to the release he craves.

The hallway ends, and Axel ushers Demyx into a large, well-lit room, a full-length mirror adorning one of the walls. There is a chair in the corner, and in the chair sits Roxas.

Stoic Roxas, who never laughs, never smiles, never talks, never enjoys the company of the other Nobodies. He ignores and is ignored in return.

His hood too is down, and his clear blue eyes crackle with intensity from underneath his blonde bangs. His mouth is partially open, and his breath hisses across his wet lips.

Suddenly, Demyx feels uneasy, and a dim fluttering blooms in places lower than his stomach. His mouth opens, and he gulps air unabashedly, and Axel and Roxas share a secret smile.

Then Axel is behind Demyx, turning him so that he faces the mirror, and one hand snakes down his chest, teasing the flesh that lay beneath the heavy leather, while the other rubs circles against his neck.

"Are you watching?"

Hot breath curls at his ear, and Demyx's eyes close.

Faint pain at his throat as Axel presses two fingers into the hollow at the base.

"Watch."

Demyx's eyes open, and he watches in detached fascination as Axel's long and deft fingers sensually tangle with the hanging cords of his hood and then close around the zipper, slowly pulling it down.

From the chair in the corner, Roxas leans forward, his tongue tracing his lips.

The zipper stops past his navel, and Demyx's coat falls away from him, pooling at his ankles. In the mirror, his reflection, face flushed and eyes hazy, stands, chest bare, the taller Axel behind him, hands splaying against his skin.

Axel pulls and rubs and pinches, and Demyx, ever obedient, watches the mirror, watches his chest heave up and down, watches Axel smirk again and bite his ear. An imprint is left behind. Demyx withers, his head falling back on Axel's shoulder, and he still stares into the mirror. The image there is barely recognizable.

Fire blossoms on Axel's fingertips and slowly, they snake down flesh, leaving burns in their wake. It hurts, this strange sensation of being burned so intimately, but the pain is fuzzy, and Demyx cries out and bites down on his lip as Axel's hands slip into his pants.

The fuzzy pain has gotten stronger, but Demyx is too lost to care, and he watches the outlines of Axel's hands moving under the constrictive material.

Roxas watches too, and one of his hands has already disappeared into the darkness of his coat, his head lolling back as he sighs and gasps. The movement captures Demyx's eyes, and when Roxas sees that he is looking, he moans, loud and breathy.

Axel's hands can feel Demyx twitch, and he continues to smirk, even when he lowers his mouth to Demyx's neck, kissing and biting and licking.

Lost in foggy haze, Demyx tries to watch both Roxas and the mirror, and then finds that his vision is beginning to fail as Axel's hands trace their way back up his body, leaving new burn trails behind.

And then the heat leaves, and Axel steps away from him, and Demyx nearly falls down, so dependent is he on Axel to hold him up. Roxas give a frustrated moan and withdraws his hand.

Demyx runs his own hands, cool and wet, down his body, soothing the burned trails of skin. But he doesn't dare slide his hands into his pants. The pain is too good.

Behind him, Axel slips silently out of his pants and embraces Demyx from behind, pressing their bodies close. Against the small of his back, Demyx feels Axel's heat, a throbbing warmth so different from his fingers.

And Demyx watches the mirror again as Axel grasps his hips and tug his pants off.

There is a small cabinet behind them, and Axel uses it as an impromptu seat, pulling Demyx down with him. Kissing the back of his neck, Axel repeats, "Watch."

And then Axel is pushing Demyx's legs part, his hands leaving burnt palm-prints on the insides of Demyx's thighs. Then it's just Axel, Axel, _Axel, Axel_.

In the room, all is silent for minute, and then Roxas gets up and walks away, but not before looking down at Demyx and flicking his tongue out to catch a bit of white sitting on his lip. Demyx shivers and groans softly. And then it is time for Demyx to leave, and as Axel leaves him sitting on the cabinet, Demyx tries to catch his breath. He is handed leather and boots and for moment he is confused, and then he realizes Axel is handing him back is clothes. He pulls them on and then leaves, weaving from wall to wall in the hallway, drugged and loose-limbed. Axel calls out something to him, and it is only later that Demyx can process what he had said.

"You do realize this was all Roxas's idea?"

.::oOo::.

I am depraved. There is no argument anymore. I am a depraved soul, and nothing can be done to save me.

But anyway, so yeah, ha, ha, threesome. Uke!Demyx because he's down there with Cloud on the uke scale. Roxas, you whore.

So, what'd you think? Oh, and by the way, Axel really was burning him. It wasn't metaphorical; it was literal. I mean, what's a little S and M between friends, right? I am SO depraved.

(Link to unedited version found on profile. Go read it, it's a lot better than this mild stuff.)


End file.
